


Better Things to Do Than Dishes

by RoamingRoveon



Category: Splatoon
Genre: All characters depicted are 18+, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Smut, for the love of god do not read this if you're under 18, i mean there's a little more than implication, if you take issue with smut don't read it, it's rated properly, just the teasing part, let me live, pls, you don't get to see the rest of it tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:26:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28876419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoamingRoveon/pseuds/RoamingRoveon
Summary: Jinx is just trying to get her chores done. Marie has other ideas.
Relationships: Agent 3/Marie (Splatoon)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Better Things to Do Than Dishes

**Author's Note:**

> Someone (*coughChaoticcough*) mentioned they found HypnoTech while looking for smut fics. 
> 
> I happen to have a couple of those stashed away so I figured I'd finally be brave and post one.
> 
> It's short, but I have such a weak spot for Marie and Jinx, so here we are!
> 
> NOTES: All characters depicted are 18+. This takes place in some kinda universe a bit separate from my usuals, where Jinx still lives with the Squid Sisters. Jinx is a disaster lesbian, we all knew this. It may be implied that Jinx is dating both Callie and Marie.
> 
> Here's a nice break for ya from the angst of HypnoTech!

Doing the dishes isn’t generally a chore considered “sexy.” 

In their household, though, tables can turn quickly (and have) in ways that Jinx is still caught off-guard by. She’s used to standing at the sink with her earbuds in, bopping along gently to whatever tunes catch her attention that day as she scrubs plates and mugs. Usually she mulls over simple things, wandering thoughts about her partners - how oh, there’s a little chip in the corner of Callie’s favorite mug, she should point it out or try to lacquer over it if she can. If there’s a glass or a bowl missing she can assume it’s in the bedroom, and it was probably her that left it there - Marie is generally neater about those kinds of things.

Jinx never expects the occasional hands that inevitably seem to find their way to her backside. If she didn’t know better she’d think her two most beloved people were making a game out of it between them, checking in to make sure - yep! She definitely still squeaks every time someone gets a good squeeze out of her ass cheek. It’s one of the only things that she can’t seem to get used to, to desensitize herself to. 

Which makes it very easy for anyone to sneak up on her.

Granted, she also keeps track of everyone’s schedules more or less. So when she knows Callie is at a PR thing and Marie is at rehearsals, the very last thing she’s ready for is fingertips brushing the small of her back and dipping past the waistband of her shorts. Someone’s familiar palm cupping and squeezing the swell of her hip, one earbud tugged free and dropped against her shoulder followed up with the sharp edge of teeth grazing her neck. 

They’ve dubbed the particular sound that comes out of her the ‘Squid Activation Noise’ and it’s something of a startled, choked trilling sound from the back of her throat. It’s a coin toss to guess who it is that presses her closer to the counter, rests a chin on her shoulder and purrs into her ear. 

“Busy?” 

Marie’s voice is smooth, rich velvet and it makes Jinx’s knees weak. Despite the fact that the edge of the countertop is pressing into her hip bones in a way that the slightest shift makes her shiver, she’s grateful for the support. 

“D-dishes--!” The single word pitches up into a squeak and Jinx can feel her cheeks burn with embarrassment; she can’t count how often she’s had sex in this house, she really should learn to stop acting like such a virgin about it. 

A soft hum reverberates against the shell of her ear and oops, there’s the other hand, both smoothing up over her hips while Marie presses in a little closer. (How much closer could she possibly get, she’s literally sandwiching Jinx between herself and the counter--) 

“Don’t mind me, then,” Marie hums, fingertips pressing the smallest indents into the softer parts of her girlfriend’s abdomen. She goes on something of an adventure without much ado, Jinx’s skin so accustomed to her touch that she can map out the route Marie’s hands take perfectly in her mind. ‘Don’t mind me,’ she says, like she doesn’t know for a fact that her partner’s brain is a hundred and ten percent hyper-focused on everything except the sink full of dishes.

Example: 

Marie’s hips ease forward against her backside, pressing her into the counter at just the right angle. The denim of her shorts, the thickest folds where the zipper is hidden, rubs against her through her underwear with the simple motion and spikes hot and heavy in her stomach. The heat travels south and her brain short-circuits, soapy hands grabbing the counter abruptly and with a very wet sound. 

With just the right amount of pressure, teeth practiced in the art of not breaking skin pinch and nip at the side of her neck, up toward the back of her ear. Jinx tilts her head automatically, a force of habit since Marie definitely isn’t the only one of her girlfriends who has a particular fondness for that spot, and swallows in a desperate attempt to cure the drought forming in her throat. 

It doesn’t work, and she has a million new things to think about, like how one of Marie’s hands dips down the front of her shorts the instant she tries to lean away from the counter. How deft fingertips press against her through soft, close-fitting fabric and how she’s going to need a clean pair of boxer briefs  _ very  _ soon. One hand still grips the counter, the other clapping over her mouth to stifle an embarrassingly needy whimper when Marie’s fingertip oh-so-lightly strokes the slowest of circles around her clothed clit.

“Don’t you have dishes to do?” Comes the heady chuckle beside her ear and oh, cod, Jinx feels her knees going to jelly beneath her just in time for her partner’s fingers to retreat again. 

A throaty groan rolls off her tongue before she can stop it. “ _ Marie _ ,” she whines, bracing herself against the counter once again. But both of them know she has neither the tools nor the intention to finish that sentence, all of her focus geared instead toward  _ not  _ rolling her hips forward and grinding against the edge of the granite. 

She’s not an animal, she can control herself, and that fact absolutely does not change when Marie’s arms wind a bit more firmly around her. When a hand glides up from the rise of her jeans to knead gently at a sensitive breast. Jinx’s breath catches, her pulse stuttering in its hurry to speed up and her hips twitching in search of the countertop again - she tries to remind her reacting nerves that it’s not a car chase, but she’s never been able to stifle her body’s response to Marie’s touch. 

Jinx doesn’t even hear the noises tumbling out of her mouth at first, the wanton little whines and whimpers that she eventually tries to stifle between her teeth and her lower lip. Over that and probably more importantly, she picks up on the approval in her partner’s gentle humming, praise without words that she would die for more of.

That’s maybe a bit overly dramatic but she doesn’t care, she’s too busy white-knuckling the edge of the counter - really quite difficult when her hands are still damp and soapy - and arching her back in an attempt to encourage Marie to touch her. Touch her  _ more _ . 

It’s never that easy. Even with one hand squeezing at Jinx’s chest and the other toying with the button on her shorts, Marie still bites her ear lobe and adamantly refuses to pick up the pace. She’s always had a penchant for taking her sweet time - it’s delicious torture, never a question of whether it’s worth it or not but always a mystery of when she can expect catharsis. 

“Take your time,” she has the nerve to say, so calmly, and if Jinx didn’t know her better she would miss the tiniest catch in those three simple words - the one that gives away just how much she enjoys the exchange. “I’ve got nowhere else to be.” 

They go on like that for what could be minutes or hours, with how Jinx’s head is spinning. She tries, she really does, tries to focus on the sink of sudsy water and mugs and plates, things she has to clean. There’s a valiant effort on her part to work past the way her skin burns so perfectly in the wake of Marie’s touch, to control the trembling of her fingers as the heat pools between her legs. She shifts her thighs, rubbing them together as subtly as she can to try and alleviate the building pressure, but it just makes matters worse and her partner catches her. 

Standing there in the kitchen behind her, reminding her to be careful because that’s Callie’s favorite mug she’s got in her hands, hips pressing against Jinx’s ass and palms taking in every single inch of skin beneath her shirt. Peppering kisses against the back of her neck, nuzzling, nipping, all because she  _ can _ . 

Jinx can only take so much. When nimble fingers finally,  _ finally  _ venture back into her shorts and even beyond her underwear - thank  _ cod,  _ that’s skin she’s touching - the unbearably aroused inkling slaps her palms down onto the counter. “Marie,  _ please _ \--” She breathes, bordering on helpless. 

Palm pressing against her squirming partner’s stomach, the would-be assailant hides a lascivious smile and eases Jinx back into her. “Yes, love?” She coos, lips brushing the shell of her ear, a pretense of innocence that is absolutely fake. “Do you want something?” 

Frustration bubbles up in the groan Jinx gives back, one damp hand grasping desperately for Marie’s wrist and - in a rather bold move for her - shoves that hand further into the depths of her shorts. Rolling her hips forward in the process, feeling the slightest compliance as a single digit presses into her. Not far, not nearly enough, but she can’t really complain when it’s almost what she’s after.

“Oh, you’re  _ dripping _ , aren’t you?” 

Jinx digs her blunted nails into Marie’s arm and clenches her teeth, nodding vigorously. 

“You must be uncomfortable.” 

“ _ Marie _ , p-please--” 

Teeth on her ear again, punctuated by the tiniest nudge in her pants - the pad of Marie’s finger gliding up and teasing at that hypersensitive bundle of nerves. The next words slide out as a firm whisper. “Please  _ what. _ ” 

Jinx can’t tell if she sighs or screams it, but the second the words “ _ Please fuck me _ ” are out of her mouth, there’s no more talking. 

The dishes are still sitting in the sink when Callie gets home.

**Author's Note:**

> It's a wonder they get anything done in that house.


End file.
